


rugged heart

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Het huis Anubis | Das Haus Anubis | House of Anubis, House of Anubis
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that's when it hits Eddie that is something new and different; ensemble. (Post-"The Touchstone of Ra")</p>
            </blockquote>





	rugged heart

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Laura for beta-reading!)
> 
> Dear Sibuna,
> 
> I guess I could write a letter expressing my feelings about why, after a year of ignoring this show, why I came back. I could explain how the characters stole my heart or how a simple mystery captured my attention; I could talk about a group of people with similar interests who welcomed me into their family and hearts and suddenly it was like I was here forever.
> 
> I could talk about the twelve characters that made the show what it was. How Nina lead a group of misfits despite curses and dangers; how Fabian researched and discovered and tripped over himself; how Amber founded a club with a backwards word and continued looking great as she did; how Patricia got angry and sad and happy all at once and gradually; how Alfie grew up but stayed young and never lost is his spirit; how Mara found her footing and grew stronger and discovered the secrets hidden behind her back; how KT lost and gained in a matter of days with sass and naivety and more loyalty than the biggest badger; how Jerome convinced and plotted but always seemed to care at the end of the day; how Joy was replaced by others and then by a ghost of herself until the day she realized that only Joy defines Joy; how Eddie found more than a father in England but a family and a destiny and a calling, the itch of adventure and leadership only inches away; how Mick left to follow his dreams, but only after accepting that failure proceeds success and sometimes you just have to leave home to find another; how Willow idolized Anubis House and yearned for that fateful day before learning that sometimes expectations aren't reality but maybe even better.
> 
> I could talk about dynamics and relationships, about their friendships and romances and laughter and wishes. I could talk about this show for days.
> 
> I could talk about how, despite ship wars and character bashing and some pretty bad opinions, this fandom persisted and continued. Despite our main character leaving, a network change, and hiatuses longer than seasons - we stayed and continued to love.
> 
> We did good, didn't we?
> 
> So this is dedicated to you - the Anubis fandom. To Nina, and Fabian, and Amber and Alife and Patricia and KT and Eddie and Willow and Jerome and Joy and Mara and Mick. To my fictional babies and my actual friends: thank you. This is for you.

_“I’m not good with goodbyes.”_

* * *

            Sometimes when Eddie dreams, he dreams vividly. He dreams in colors and textures and sounds, his senses screaming and absorbing all at once. Melodies cradle him while whispers itch in his veins; rocks and water tickle his skin and goosebumps line his limbs; his tongue dries in anticipation of sweets and meats, curls at the thought of burnt concoctions; mist and walls struggle against depth as he studies letters and colors and drawings; spices dance before his nose, the perfume of dares lingering beside him.

            Sometimes when Eddie dreams, he wakes with only the flashes of rose behind his eyelids and the taste of marshmallow between his lips. A dream becomes a memory, fading with each passing moment.

            Graduation passes like a dream. But when the letter arrives, tangible and sealed in a simple white envelope and no return address, Eddie awakes: he can almost see the eye staring back at him, beckoning and inviting, and he has no desire to refuse.

            The day arrives, sunny and still and light; it comes like any other day and passes exactly as such. But when the moment arrives, Eddie wishes lightning would fall from the sky, or the clouds to turn red, or for the people around him to disappear. But nothing happens, and Eddie walks.

            Eddie is last to arrive, unsurprisingly; his dad has been watching his movements with beady eyes and thin lips, unspoken concern flashing in his eyes in time with memories and nightmares. Eddie doesn’t blame him.

            When Eddie walks through the clearing, branches and leaves crunch under his feet but his eyes remain on the quiet, lazy circle before him. There’s a small space empty – between Patricia and KT, the latter hugging her arms to her chest, a small picture clutched between shaky fingers. Eddie fills it with ease; it’s meant for him, he knows, and Patricia’s smile is more than enough encouragement to slide beside her.

            The completed circle hums with energy and if he was Willow, Eddie might believe that the air changes around them, singing and flowing easier and brighter now. But Eddie’s not Willow and instead he looks over to Nina.

            Nina Martin sits calmly, her back straight and her face blank, but her fingers twitch in her lap and Eddie is sure he’s not the only one who notices.

            Finally Nina speaks, her voice loud and strong but strange because this is weird and Eddie knows it. Everyone knows it’s weird, but the fire in the middle continues to crackle as flames drink in the wood and leaves, the smoke floating higher.

            “So everyone,” says Nina, her hand squeezing her knee. She glances over at Fabian who smiles back encouraging and Nina sighs again. “Most of you are wondering what you’re doing here.”

            “How’d you guess?” says Jerome, twirling a packet of papers between his fingers. Joy glances over at him with a tiny glare and Jerome sobers.

            (Eddie tries not to laugh.)

            But Eddie raises an eyebrow and glances over at Patricia because if he’s honest, he really doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Her lips are still turned into a smile, but there’s hardness in her eyes and a sadness lining her jaw and Eddie wonders if she knows. Alfie is glancing between Willow and Jerome, a twinkle in his eyes and a twitch in his leg. Even despite the dirt staining her new dress, Amber almost bounces in anticipation, Mick wincing every time she squeezes his hand in hers.

            And that’s when it hits Eddie that this is something new and different and in that moment, he is no longer the leader of Sibuna.

            “You are here,” says Nina, continuing with only the tiniest of glares at Jerome, “because you all need to be properly initiated.”

            “Initiated?” says KT, clutching the picture in her grip tighter. “Into what?”

            Fabian grins, his beam wide and bright, lifting the cloud hovering above and shining a bit of light. “Sibuna.”

            “Sibu – what?”

            It’s Mick who says it, of course, because he’s the only who doesn’t know but Eddie laughs. Because how many times have they heard that?

            “Sibuna,” says KT, her grin a little lighter.

            Mick frowns. “That’s what you were talking about the other day – Sibuna stuff,” he says, speaking directly to Amber as if the others weren’t there. Amber nods and they just look at each other for a moment. Mick looks thoughtful, a foreign expression on his face – even Eddie sense that.

            “But Sibuna?” says Willow, tilting her head to the side, her eyes crunched together. She waves her left hand in front of her face. “I remember keys, but you guys didn’t say anything about a club – “

            “It’s Anubis backwards,” says Amber quickly, throwing some hair over her shoulder.

            “Exactly,” says Nina, bring the attention back to her, quick as a whip, and the silence that falls is excited and eager now. “You all have – unofficially – been in Sibuna.” She glances sideways towards Amber, and past her towards Mick. “Some of you may not know exactly what I’m talking about, but indirectly – you helped us in spirit and it’s time we make it official.”

            “And how exactly do we do that?” It’s Joy who asks and Eddie isn’t really surprised; there’s a slight eagerness in her tone, masked by disappointment and bitterness and lies, but with Jerome inches away from her and, her hands in her lap, Joy seems every bit her namesake. Eddie shrugs out of his jacket, letting it fall beside him; somehow everything seems warmer.

            It’s Alfie who answers, a laugh and a grin and wiggling eyebrows. “A sacrifice.”

* * *

_“Let’s do this.”_

* * *

            Mara loves fantasy novels; she loves stories about swords and kings and princesses who fall in love and battle demons and dragons, sailing across the vast blue sea. Whereas Joy prefers romance, Mara always prefers the adventures and the suspense and the mysteries of new worlds, woven in words and ink.

            But even Mara’s stomach clenches tightly at Alfie’s suggestion of _sacrifice_ , and the crackling fire seems dangerous now. A dragon dances amidst the flames, smirking in anticipation for blood and life and –

            “Sacrifice?” says KT, and Mara’s thoughts are snapped away, and she instead wonders if she’s the only one who notices KT’s quick glance over to Eddie. “I think I’m good.” KT hugs the paper in her hands closer to her and Mara wonders if it was a mistake to bring Austen. The book sits in her hands, imposing and dark, its black cover heavy in her hands.

            “Yeah,” says Mara then, dragging the hardcover book closer to her again. “I think I’ve had enough of human sacrifice, thanks.” Her hand involuntarily hovers around her neck, but the medallion currently rests with Fabian.

            “Not human sacrifice,” says Patricia, a roll of her eyes and sly smile. “Just… a sacrifice.”

            “Like a prized possession or something of sentimental value,” says Joy, her fingers running across raised letters. Mara thinks the item in Joy’s hands looks familiar but she can’t place it. As the others sit quietly for a moment, Mara looks at the book in her lap.

            The title is worn down and the spine cracked in several places; the branches of the autumn trees dirty the cover, but the black remains as solid as ever despite it. Like obsidian sliding across steel sheaths, or feathers floating between woven silk, Mara’s hands graze over the old book; something just as heavy sits in her gut, but before she can let it settle, Nina is standing and Fabian is right beside her.

            “It’s time.”

             Jerome is first and this doesn’t surprise Mara; something about the calm façade is amiss in his eyes. There’s a want and a longing and a gratitude lingering in his gaze that Mara can’t miss. Smiling when Jerome walks up to the fire, Mara welcomes the familiar and sweet vulnerability.

             Something about the ceremony feels familiar, as if a dream or a memory or a piece that Mara had forgotten in the back of the mind until a trigger awakens the senses. Amber steps forward. “What is your sacrifice, Jerome Clarke?”

             Willow giggles at Amber’s formalities, but she is the only one; everyone else remains quiet and still, the trees a wall between them and the world.

             “The key to Mrs. Andrews’ final English exam,” he says. Mara notices that his hand isn’t shaking but he is gripping the paper tighter. Although Mick shuffles awkwardly for a moment, no one else says anything. “Can’t make money off of it anymore, can I?”

              Joy rolls her eyes. “Like there wasn’t some idiot who’d buy it off you.” Jerome glares and Alfie shushes her so Joy puts her hands up in surrender; Mara catches a glimpse of what’s in Joy’s hand – of yellow and green, pink letters on a silver case. Although she barely recognizes it, Mara still smiles.

             “Throw your item into the fire, Jerome.”

              Jerome does; the fire consumes it whole, orange burning faded yellow. Jerome watches and Mara watches Jerome; his jaw is tense now as the fire reflects and warms his blue eyes.

             “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.” Amber raises her own hand, her back straight and her face serious. “I, Jerome Phillip Clarke, being of sound mind, promise to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by my fellow club members.“

             “I, Jerome Phillip Clarke, being of sound mind,” repeats Jerome, although he raises an eyebrow with a tiny smile, amusement flickering in his eyes, “promise to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by my fellow club members.” There’s a pause when Mara holds her breath – this is Jerome Clarke, caring about other people – “even Campbell.”

             Mick’s eyes narrow but he says nothing. Mara feels oddly triumphant.

             “Joy?” When Joy steps forward, her eyes are not on the flames, but on Nina. There’s a mutual understanding in their gaze, as if the air around them has shared their secrets and revealed their mistakes. Joy smiles slightly when Nina gestures to the fire.

             “A token of the past. But here’s to the future,” says Joy. The fire engulfs the metal in seconds and Mara is never sure if what she sees is the reality; purple and green dance in the flames, but it’s the three letters that glow. Joy takes in a deep breath and raises her right hand. “I, Joy Mercer, being of sound mind, promise to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by fellow club members.”

              When Joy steps back, the seven official members of Sibuna have a moment; it’s almost private but not quite, but it’s as if an apology hovers before them, admitting to mistakes and lapses of judgment. Mara believes that bonds of trust are strengthened and pulled in that moment; the swelling of her heart aches.

* * *

_“I love the whole – Anubis vibe.”_

* * *

            Joy sometimes lets herself believe in fate.

            Before – before Nina and before being kidnapped and being mistaken for a Chosen One; before, when life was normal and about boys, homework, and _being normal_ – Joy treated coincidence with care. She cited literature, where the protagonist would happen upon the right love interest at the right time – and like magic, serendipity arose.

            But that was before; this is now.

            Now, Joy knows better. 

            Yet, when she slips back down onto the ground, curling her legs beneath her, there’s an inkling of an intuition whispering in her ear. It almost seems like fate, her with all of them, sitting in a circle; it’s almost inevitable.

            But Eddie should have stepped forward by now, and instead Willow interrupts Nina before she can speak.

            “What – what secrets are we protecting, exactly?”

            It hits Joy all at once that there is so much to share and so much unknown. Between the twelve of them, there are secrets and lies and myths and nightmares to be shared; but something in Willow’s soft voice makes Joy want to cry.

            So Joy is glad when Nina smiles kindly. “Robert Frobisher-Smythe, and his wife Louisa, built the house in 1890 – “

            And Nina spins the tale, outlining the history of Anubis House and the school, filling in details about curses and hidden treasures and secrets tunnels and tasks. Fabian interjects occasionally, to talk about a man frozen in a tank and descendants and that’s when Joy frowns.

            “Wait – you’re saying the reason Victor and Sweets needed us,” she says, drawing a quick semi-circle and ignoring that nagging voice pointing out their seating arrangements, “because we’re descendants?”

            “Your great-grandparents were in the same excavation group as Robert Frobisher-Smythe,” says Fabian, nodding. He glances over at KT and smiles: “who happens to be KT’s great-grandfather.”

            When Joy swallows hard, she feels Jerome’s finger lacing between her own. It’s a small comfort, his warmth spreading through her hand, but the churning in her stomach doesn’t cease. “So Willow and – Poppy and Piper – they’re all descendants too?”

            Eddie frowns and shares a look with KT. “I completely forgot about Poppy – but yeah, she would be too.” He looks straight at Jerome; the two frown at each other but with a level of respect that Joy wishes she understood. But then she glances over to Mara and she knows.

            “So they’re important too.”

            Joy glances over at Mick; his face is blank, but his gaze burns through the fire in the center of their circle. Fabian frowns. “I guess they are – but I mean, even though Nina is the Chosen One and Eddie – well, he _was_ the Osirian, but – “

            “And they’re all descendents,” says Mick, indicating the five to his left. “And KT too. And you and Mara – you don’t need to have a fancy title to be important. And Patricia and Alfie and Amber were all there from the very beginning – “

            “You do not have a patent on feeling useless, Mick Campbell,” says Joy before Mick even finishes because she can sense where the thread leads: into a black hole, sucking energy and the pace and she does not approve. Anger long abated surfaces for the moment, boiling within her, traces of smoke evident in the hard grip against her legs. “You’re important too.”

            “And how exactly – “

            “One time,” says Fabian, his eyes narrow as he looks straight at Mick, “you knocked over my mug and it shattered on the floor. That was how I figured out the puzzle pieces we had created the Cup.”

            “That’s not even – “

            “You kept Fabian grounded,” says Nina with a small smile, sadness lingering, and Joy suddenly understands the girl a lot more. “You made Mara happy. You _make_ Amber happy.”

            “You make us _all_ happy,” says Patricia, her voice flat and dry like usual, but the edge is dull and almost welcoming. “We missed you, Mick, and just because you don’t have a fancy title doesn’t make you useless. Believe me.”

            “But – “

            “Campbell,” says Jerome, and that’s when everyone else stills. Joy doesn’t dare squeeze Jerome’s hand then. “If they can accept me, they definitely would want you too.” The anger in Mick’s face fades all at once, replaced by a semblance of confusion, and that’s when Jerome laughs. “Besides, this way we have someone to blame for all the stupid ideas.”

            Joy opens her mouth to snap at Jerome – because this is _not the time_ – and Amber almost beats her to it – her teeth are clenched and her eyes narrowed and arms crossed – but instead, Mick laughs. Mick throws his head back and _laughs_ , wind chimes in the calm air, clearing the doubt that might have covered them before.

            Nina takes over after that.

* * *

_“We’ve got to stick together, dude.”_

* * *

            When Alfie was younger, he used to pretend that the aliens had taken over, that the zombie apocalypse had happened, or that his father would be proud of him.

            Sadly – or not – none of these things happened.

            On Wednesday nights, Alfie would hide under the blankets and pretend his flashlight was a spaceship landing; occasionally, he’d sneak in a cookie and as he nibbled, the crumbs became zombie prevention dust, used to protect himself from the flesh-eating creatures. Sometimes, his father would hear him and scold him for getting the sheets dirty, for not going to bed, for not finishing his homework for the night, the incomplete papers cast aside on the floor.

            But when Sibuna happened – when aliens and zombies became jokes, cover stories for treasure and secret tunnels and frozen bodies – suddenly every nightmare became reality.

            It’s the nightmares that plague him the most; but it’s the way Willow grins and Amber laughs and Patricia rolls her eyes and Fabian frowns and Mara claps her hands and KT bites her lip – it’s those moments that make the demons dive beneath their own covers.

            When Eddie walks up to the fire, he’s holding an envelope in his hands. His hands do not shake either, but the address is written in a scrawl and Alfie wonders what the letter contains; its message, its destination, its origin.

            Eddie stares at the name on the envelope when he raises his right hand. “I, Edison Miller,” he says; Alfie gasps, exaggerated and out loud, and Patricia hits him on his shoulder. Alfie hisses in pain while Eddie continues on, “being of sound mind, swear to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by my fellow club members.” Eddie moves to drop the letter into the fire, but Patricia grabs Eddie’s collar before he can step forward. “Yacker, what – “

            But then Patricia has Eddie’s leather jacket in her arms and then it’s in the fire, burning. Eddie blinks a few times before Alfie starts laughing. Patricia nods. “Finally, I was getting sick of all the holes in that stupid thing.”

            “ _Yacker_ – what are you _doing_ – that was my _favorite jacket_!” Eddie’s hands are reaching towards the bucket of flames, but his fingers do not quite make it there before he retreats, hissing at the sudden heat.

            “I know,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, smiling smugly. “It was very obvious.”

            “I already planned out what I was going to throw into the fire!” Alfie laughs more at Eddie’s frustration; his words appear like whining and even Mara is trying not to giggle.

            Mick laughs too now, because Patricia has picked up the crumpled paper Eddie had dropped. “You could always burn both,” he says. Mick and Patricia share a look before Patricia grins and tosses the letter into the fire too.

            Eddie groans, his arms landing back to his side loudly. And although Alfie still laughs – because Eddie looks back at the fire with a frown and sad eyes – Fabian places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I understand, mate.” Fabian glances over at Nina and Amber, who are trying not to laugh themselves. “They made me burn my signed copy of _The Solar System is Your Friend_ when we first formed the group.”

            And Alfie laughs harder because there’s bitterness in Fabian’s voice; Jerome’s snickers echo against the restless leaves.

            “I was _wondering_ where that went,” says Mara suddenly, her eyes wide.

            “You _borrowed it?_ ”

            And then Fabian and Mara are arguing over constellations and Eddie is mourning his jacket while Patricia half-heartedly consoles him. Willow remains quiet by his side, as if observing and noting, and Alfie expects that’s exactly the case. Amber and Nina are leaning towards each other, giggling interrupting their whispers as Mick shakes his head in amusement. Alfie glances over at Jerome.

            “Wanna bet how long it takes for Eddie to buy a new jacket?” says Jerome quickly and Joy rolls her eyes. Alfie grins.

            “I was thinking that Patricia might actually get one for him,” he says. Alfie doesn’t indicate that he already _knows_ that Patricia bought him a new jacket though.

            “Five bucks.”

            “You’re on.”

            Joy sighs and shakes her head. “Jerome, haven’t you learned to never bet against Alfie when it comes to Patricia?” Alfie bites his lip from laughing again; Joy nods at him. “Alfie, I apologize for my boyfriend.”

            “You must have to do that a lot,” says Alfie with a grin. Jerome straightens, about to say something, when Nina’s voice rises again.

            “Sadly,” she says as the conversations cease all at once, “we must continue.” She glances upwards and Alfie realizes she’s right; the sun has begun to sunk, dipping closer to the horizon. “KT?”

            And KT closes her eyes.

* * *

_“There’s no I in Sibuna.”_

* * *

            In New York, Amber remembers her mother.

            Amber always remembers her mother at random times on random days; but at fashion school, with pretty girls with pretty ideas and vast ambitions, Amber _remembers_.

            She remembers pink lace tops, stitched together with white thread and patience. She remembers lemon cakes and sugar cookies, and potatoes dipped in alfredo sauce. She remembers a yellow, cotton sundress, a wide, inviting smile, and a long, blonde braid of hair. Amber remembers her mother in sepia tones; she remembers the details and misses the big picture. But despite the fading memories, lemon and lavender perfume still lingers.

            But most of all, Amber remembers her father’s face the night she woke and curled up beside him. She remembers whispering, because her father looked so _broken_ , shirt wrinkled and hair disheveled, face in his hands. “Daddy? Where’s Mommy?”

            “Amber, honey,” he had said, looking at her for the first time. His blue eyes had turned silver, dull yet sparkling with tears; Amber bit her lip and nodded. She knew, as only a six year old could; she knew.

            And when KT hesitates to stand, her fingers curled tightly around something in her hand, Amber knows. She recognizes the bitten lip and worried eyes, the shaking hands and the hunched shoulders. Amber knows.

            “Who’s the picture of?” Amber asks, eyes solely on KT and no one else; she thinks she hears Nina taking in a breath, but Amber ignores her.

            KT looks startled at the sudden question, but her eyes float back towards Eddie and Fabian for a moment before she sighs. “It’s my grandpa,” she says, showing Amber the picture. An older man sits in a chair, laughing, and in his lap is a tiny KT, sucking on a lollipop and looking up her grandfather’s face, mesmerized. 

            “Did he die?” asks Amber, her tone flat and even; Fabian groans somewhere to her right and Jerome scoffs to her left, but Willow only frowns and Mick says nothing at all. “I mean – “

            “Yes,” says KT, with a tiny smile. “Before I came here last year – he was the one who gave me my key and told me I needed to be at Anubis.” Her smile falls, replaced by specks of tears dotting her eyelashes. “I thought – when we saved my great-grandpa – “

            “You thought that even though you lost one grandfather, at least you’d have another,” says Nina. Amber looks over at her best friend; there’s sadness and sympathy and a twinkle in her eyes.

“But – Mr. Frobisher-Smythe is old, isn’t he? I expect there’s quite a lot of wrinkles,” says Amber. “I’m surprised he’s even still alive.”

            “So am I,” says KT. She’s unfolded the picture now, and her thumb runs across the glossy finish. But her shoulders are straightener now and Amber grins. KT looks up, straight at her and Nina, hardness in her eyes and smile on her lips. “But they’d both be proud of me.”

            Part of Amber is mad; Eddie and Fabian should have been there for KT, talked to her – or even Patricia. Part of Amber understands though; because sometimes people – like KT or Nina or Joy – keep their feelings to themselves. They don’t lash out or say anything, just sit back and stew, until the moment where everything falls into place and they _understand_.

            As KT raises her hand, Amber knows that this is KT’s moment. “I, Kara Tatiana Rush, being of sound mind, promise to protect the secrets of Anubis house.” She looks around and there’s only silence that greets her, a still forest and a burning sun and many held breaths. “And stand by my fellow club members.”

            As one, they exhale and it’s that release that sends a tiny breeze floating through their clearing. And Amber smiles.

* * *

_“We’re like family now.”_

* * *

           The hairstreaks have ceased to exist, but Patricia still imagines strokes of paint gliding over her hair, over her friends’ eyes, over the tree trunks as they sway casually in the wind. In hard lines and straight edges, the colors spray over everything: Patricia sees the rainbow pulling in front of her and smiles.

            Her hairstreaks used to be an act of rebellion, a symbol of her need for attention. After year ten, after Joy’s disappearance and Jason’s betrayal and Nina’s arrival – somehow the streak of color no longer seemed important. Magenta and blue and red faded into brown again. She still has the fake hairpieces, of course, piled in the bottom of her sock drawer, hidden from view. It’s in the past now, but it’s a part of her past she likes to keep with her.

            With everyone sitting together, colors blur quickly together; the scarlet and navy blend together, but it’s the gold and silver that laugh together, and the violet and indigo stars that twinkle in time. Patricia runs her fingers over a maroon palm; Eddie looks at her with scrunched eyebrow and Patricia shakes her head. The colors are spinning faster; gray and green and orange and yellow and lavender – it’s a mess, yet there’s beauty in the chaos. Pixelated in an array of colors, each of her friends is dotted together meticulously.

            Sometimes the colors flash so quickly, in the blur Patricia only sees black.

Yet the ceremony drags; Patricia’s patience is wearing thin, especially as there are still three initiations left. But the nagging questions boils in the back of her brain, and even though she wants it to be _done_ and finalized, the words run away from her.

            “Why now?”

            And it’s a valid question; because when Nina first emailed them – the originals, the Sibuna she knew and led – she only mentioned gratitude and regret, a need and an almost obligation mingled with inevitability. But the question still remained: what catalyst prompted the email, prompted the impromptu gathering, and prompted the finalization of their family.

            Everyone looks to Nina, but it’s Fabian who answers. “I – I was talking to KT and Mara, who knew of Sibuna but had never officially been initiated. And Mick – who barely knew what I was talking about, but it felt like – like it needed to be done.”

            “And now?” says Nina, with a secret smile and glance upwards. “I had a – dream.” Patricia rolls her eyes – _vision, more like_ – as Nina continues. “There’s something coming and Sibuna needs _all_ of us to finish it this time.”

            The ominous response to the announcement sits like ice over them. Trying not the let the shiver in her spine travel to her limbs, Patricia frowns and straightens her back. Another mystery, another danger – and this time, more people to protect.

            “And if we don’t want to join?” asks Mick. Jerome glances over at him, studying his face, and Patricia sees defiance in both of their eyes; there’s no truth or sincerity – it’s a question of pushing and challenging. Patricia grins.

            “You don’t have to,” says Nina, her face void of all emotions, just flat words and harsh truths. Mick nods, as if he expected the answer, but Nina continues, her face hardening with each passing moment. “You can leave now, if you wish. Any of you can,” she says, addressing the entire circle. “Whether you haven’t yet joined, or just did – or even if ended up with us years ago.”

            There’s silence. Patricia feels her heart beating loudly, screaming against the silent breeze and vivid green forest around them. An oak tree stands across from her, holding its breath, eyes wide and lip quivering. But no one speaks – no one moves.

            And then Nina smiles. “That’s what I thought.”

* * *

_“You are not doing this alone.”_

* * *

            Mapping stars onto personalities never felt quite right to Fabian. He preferred admiring the twinkling lights from afar, watching patterns form from connected lines and mythology speak the language of celestial bodies. But sometimes, he’ll admit, there is merit to the tales: Patricia’s stubbornness, Amber’s heart, Eddie’s wit. Moments of pure _personality_ highlight their differences.

            Yet, as Mara closes her eyes and steps forward, it’s the similarities Fabian notices: how Amber and Mara both breathe slowly and care deeply; how Alfie and Eddie both fidget; how Willow and KT both seem eager.

            There are stars twinkling in Mara’s eyes; there are stars all around Fabian, glittering in the clear blue sky like tiny specks of gold. With the fire consuming each sacrifice as their sun, they are a motley crew of planets, a solar system if designated parts and functions.

It makes Fabian smile.

            The shadow in Mara’s hands rests easy. Living and breathing, the title sinks into the pages and the cover remains barren. The significance of the book intrigues Fabian, but Mara’s eyes are hard and set; Fabian keeps his mouth shut.

            “I, Mara Fiona Jaffray – “

            “Since when is your middle name _Fiona_?” says Alfie, eyes wide and forehead crunched. Jerome snorts – and Joy glares at him – but he’s still biting his lip with amusement in his eyes. And for the moment, Fabian feels a rush of triumph in his chest – he was the only one who knew.

            (The moment passes: he glances over at Eddie, whose face mirrors his own and Fabian deflates.)

            Mara remains clam, although she channels some of Patricia’ flat tone. “Since I was born, Alfie.” Alfie laughs and Mara straightens. Anyway – being of sound mind, I promise – “

            Hearing the words out of yet another mouth, Fabian closes his eyes. The words vibrate through the clearing, each word pronounced and emphasized; Fabian wonders if they can hear his heart beating a little faster. It feels fuller now; bigger.

            “ – my fellow club members.” Her grip tightens around the book for another second; with a deep sigh, her fingers slacken and the book tumbles into the pit.

            They all sit silently as the flames devour each ivory page, flashes of ink visible in the valleys of fire. White turning into gray, the book turns to ash and Fabian mourns with a small smile at the sacrifice. Mara sits back down without comment.

            Nina leans towards him. “You were right.” Her whisper carries easily in the silence, but no one else looks over. “They’re happier.”

Fabian just notices the elongated back, the steady eyes, the gripping fingers; the minute changes after only a second and a flash of fire appear slowly but they’re evident. Eddie smiles easily; Jerome leans back on one arm; Joy’s eyes shine in the setting sun. They’re happier and stronger and somehow that makes Fabian warm.

“ _We_ were right,” says Fabian instead, with a small nod. Nina leans back now, her eyes still stuck on Fabian, but she never needs to say anything anymore – he knows.

He also knows that this is a universe of important moments; a collection of the little things stacked together to form massive institutions and stories. And after a moment and a sacrifice, the star swells and glitters, in the company of a stronger galaxy.

Fabian wonders if astronomers would name him Star Susan. He hopes not.

* * *

_“You guys are going to have so much fun.”_

* * *

            The spirits always speak to Willow.

            The fairies sit on her shoulder, whispering and giggling. Sometimes she wonders what they find so fascinating; but then Willow looks around and knows.

            The fairy on her shoulder is a deep green today, with copper wings and a sad smile. Willow studies it for a moment, but the strong navy aura depresses her and she looks around instead.

            Everyone looks vividly colored now; solid streaks of black and white chased away, the swirls calm and Willow sees blocks. Even Alfie – his orange usually mingled with yellow, sometimes even tainted with seafoam green – screams bright orange; his small smile laughs with the fresh scent of grass after a nighttime storm. He’s as bright as the sun in the afternoon sky, reflections of ocean ripples escaping the wrinkles of his laugh lines.

            Jerome and Joy sparkle. The silver tones in Jerome’s skin illuminate his hard jawline; his smirk waves in welcome for once, as warm as Trudy’s freshly baked cookies. Meanwhile, Joy sings a quiet song of lavender, each smile and laugh another note of the chimes. She plants the tranquil seeds, each waiting to blossom; Willow likes to imagine she’s the leaves to Joy’s flowers, each shared glance a petal coated in morning dew.

            Patricia’s navy is deep and freckled like denim; it’s a warm pair of jeans taken straight out of the dryer. Legs curled into her chest, Patricia embraces her knees and her position – as if she was meant to be there all along, a rock amidst the screaming sea.

            Eddie is not a swirl of red and purple anymore – he is hard maroon, burgundy almost, each bite of his lip and raise of his eyebrow another flap of burlap wings; his hands clench in his lap around a skinned bag of air, gripping everyone together in the current moment.

            KT dresses in gold – silk draped over her hair, she wears a robe of velvet that sinks into her skin and glows. Willow wonders if the twitching eyes were calmed with fire; but for now, black doubt fades away and the metallic beam strengthens, the echoes ringing loudly in Willow’s ears.

            As the darker violet deepens, Mara sits on a throne of grass and leaves, branches her jewels and wind her crown. She is a queen of riches and smarts, of heart and mind; and the kindness of her touch leaves a gentle sting.

            Fabian and Nina are no longer black and white; black brightens to deep indigo and white fades into sharp scarlet. They are water and fire now; as Fabian strengthens and Nina absorbs, they grow and smile and listen to the whispers. The fairies appreciate being heard; the one sitting in Fabian’s hair rests peacefully. But Fabian’s fingers itch against invisible words, tracing letters not yet written. Nina’s ears sharpen with such intensity, Willow wonders if she can hear Victor’s pin drop, in a sandy plane miles and oceans away.

            And yet, Amber still shines. She matches the fire, devouring unforgivingly, only returning soot and ash. But the ash is a smile and the soot is a laugh, as golden as her hair glittering in the quickly approaching dusk. But if Amber is the fire queen, then Mick is her jester. His usual gray suffocates; red and green and yellow and blue struggle against him, bubbling in swirls. Mick’s rainbow colors his hesitant laughs and shaky hands; encumbered by fire, the flame beside him – in his hand, in his heart – seems to melt away the wool leaving the wolf within. The color claws against fur and blood, yet somehow Mick’s eyes seem to remain the pale blue of the fairy sitting on his shoulder.

            Willow sees a circle of colors and shades of aroma and scents of texture; the taste of oranges and chocolate sits on her tongue, but it’s the web that burns.

            A vanilla, twisted line runs from Fabian to Nina, whereas a frayed red one connected Jerome and Mara; dotted in colors and stars, Fabian to Eddie to Alfie; a thick, red and pick swirl runs among herself and the other girls; and Willow watches a solid black thread craw towards her, already tied to the others. It’s a tangled garment of patterns and lace, but Willow doesn’t pull – it’d only grow tighter.

            That’s when Willow notices the black smoke, climbing through the web, eight legs turning into twelve. There’s a spider in the mist, an ominous darkness beneath them. But when the fairies fly away, they sprinkle golden dust behind them and Willow knows they’ll be okay.

            “Willow!” Willow blinks and looks around; Alfie seems concerned, Eddie amused, and Patricia rolls her eyes.

             Willow smiles and looks to the fire. “My turn?”

            “We’ve only been saying that for the past five minutes – but yes,” says Joy, nudging her forward.

             And Willow steps towards the center with an empty jar – but there’s a light flicking in her hands and Willow’s glad she can finally see it.

* * *

_“It’s an ending and a beginning all at once.”_

* * *

            If there is anything Jerome knows for certain in life, it is three things.

            One: Citizen Kane is the best movie of all time.

            Two: Alfie Lewis will always be his absolute best friend.

            Three: sitting there, in that clearing, Jerome feels an odd sense of déjà vu, mirroring every time the entirety of Anubis House has sat down together.

            So when Willow walks towards the fire, an odd smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes, Jerome tries his best not to gulp. Willow, meanwhile, beams.

            “I, Willow Marie Breezy Daughter of Squirrel Jenks, being of sound mind” she says, ignoring the jokes and the giggles and the “why am I not surprised” from Eddie, “promise to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by my fellow housemates.” Without letting the alternate word settle in their minds, Willow drops the jar into the pit and Jerome flinches at the shattered glass that glows red. Willow’s hands sink slowly back to her sides, but her eyes remain glued to the melting glass; Jerome thinks he sees flames reflected in her eyes – he gulps again.

            No one moves – except when Willow grins again, staring straight at Amber. “Thank you,” she says, “without you leaving, I would still be pretending Anubis House was a castle on a fluffy white cloud, sitting in the sky.” Jerome lets out a surprised bark as Amber just blinks; but Willow is already skipping back to her seat and Nina is trying – and failing – not to smile.

            But Jerome doesn’t bother suppressing his grin: Willow Jenks lights up the clearing in a way the fire even in Amber can’t; whereas Amber is a flashlight in a room of darkness, Willow is a bonfire on a new moon night. Both glimmering, both bright – just in different ways. As Nina’s faze falls to Mick, Jerome sighs. So similar yet so different: Jerome wonders why it took him so long to see it.

            “Mick?” says Nina, not unkindly and Jerome applauds her for that. All eyes rest of the final piece – except Mick looks at the sheets in his hand with a blank face.

            “Beau?” says Amber, nudging him with an elbow. Mick closes his eyes.

            “Hey Campbell,” says Jerome, waving a hand in front of his face. “Anyone home?” Mick glares at his hand now; the venom in his eyes makes Jerome flinch back.

            “What’s wrong, mate?” says Fabian quickly, trying to diffuse the anger bubbling within Jerome’s gut. Fabian is halfway to standing up when Mick clenches his teeth – but the anger and contempt has left his eyes as quickly as they arrived. Now his expression is one Jerome recognizes well – disbelief, mixed with regret.

            Apparently Joy recognizes it too. “Mick – if you want to tell us something, we’ll listen. And if you don’t – “ Joy glances around once before nodding. “Some people like keeping secrets – and that’s okay. Isn’t that why we’re here anyway?”

When Mick looks at her, he’s searching. He’s searching for something in her eyes and maybe he finds it. He’s searching in all their eyes – but his attention halts onto Willow (a tiny smile and a knowing wink), on KT (an unspoken understanding in remembrance of a private conversation) and finally on Eddie. Eddie stares back – and it’s not with challenge or fear or even pity: it’s respect and acceptance. And that makes Mick sigh. “Thank you,” he says to no one in particular.

At first, Jerome fumes: more secrets and more lies and maybe he was wrong. But Nina’s slow nod explains it all. The gratitude flickering in Mick’s eyes is strong and still, and Jerome finally understands Mick Campbell – _thank you_ , he says, quiet and soft. But now Jerome hears: _thank you and I’m sorry I never told you how much it means to me._ Whereas Jerome believes he’s rotten, Mick believes he’s useless and that’s something Jerome can understand.

            Four: He and Mick Campbell are more alike than it seems. Maybe they all are.

            Mick stands up and everyone watches him, but Jerome shakes his head, smiles, and looks up at the lavender sky.

* * *

_“This is home.”_

* * *

            Before Anubis House, KT never truly understood friendship.

            She sat in her house and watched. She’d watched groups laugh over inside jokes and duos share secret handshakes; watched as cliques broke up and rearranged. She waited as her friends grew into themselves as she just watched them, sitting under trees and biting her nails. KT still watches now – but this time, instead of imagining, she is living and that makes all the difference in the world.

            Mick takes a while to walk over to the told garbage can, dragged up here, with moss crawling up the ridges. There’s a small packet of papers in his hand; KT sees a red _A_ written cleanly across the top. For a moment, KT’s heart aches.

            The moment passes: Mick drops the packet of papers into the fire before anyone asks what it is; yet everyone can see the ink glowing and the reflection of the flames in Mick’s eyes.

            “Mick – “ says Amber, raising her hand, but Mick is louder.

            “I, Mick Campbell, having a silent mind,” he says quickly and therefore misses Jerome covering his snickers with his hand and Fabian closing his eyes, “promise to protect the secrets of Anubis House and stand by my fellow club members.” His hand stays up for a moment too long and for a heartbeat, KT wonders if he thinks he’s made a mistake. But then the hand drops, Mick steps back, and everyone is left watching the flames.

            They sit like that for a full minute before finally the silence is too much.

            “So – I guess that’s it.” Alfie rubs his hands together and shrugs. “We’re all in.”

            Nina nods. “Sibuna,” she says, covering her right eye with her palm.

            “Sibuna,” says KT, grinning, as Willow and Mick look around with strange looks. Amber arranges Mick’s hand properly, rolling her eyes.

            “Anubis backwards,” says Willow, her eyes a little cloudy and her smile filled with secrets. “The opposite of death is life; the opposite of loneliness is championship.” Her smile fades. “It takes all to live; it only takes one to die.”

            Chills crawling up her spine, KT gulps. The others seem to shrug it off though, because Alfie has his arm around Willow, whispering in her ear, and Fabian and Mara have begun to discuss some sort of plan. But the look in Willow’s eyes gnaws at KT. “But – what if we all lose touch? Or stop working together? There’s so many of us now that – “

            “Five heads may be better than three,” says Nina, glancing over at Fabian. The whispers hush again, and even if no one heard KT, they hear Nina clearly. “But twelve heads is even better.”

            “And are you saying you don’t want to hang out with me anymore?” Eddie glances over at Patricia with a tiny grin which is easily returned. “Just because I’m no longer a superhero – “

            “Shut up, _Osirian_ ,” says KT, rolling her eyes. Before Eddie can correct her, KT shakes her head. “Nope, I don’t care. You’re still the Osirian.” The levity returns again and while the scratching persists, it’s duller now – an annoyance, not an irritation.

            Mara laughs. “How can we lose touch when have five descendents, a chosen one, a former Osirian, and Mick?” Even Mick chuckles; Mara frowns thoughtfully, as a thought occurs to her suddenly. “Plus a psychic in touch with the fairies.”

            Willow just nods seriously.

            “Besides,” says Amber, straightening, “once I’m super famous and Mick buys us a mansion, you’ll all be dying to know me anyway.”

            Nina rolls her eyes before giving KT her attention again. “KT, we’re family. We’ve always been family. Anubis House was _home_.” Nina shrugs, slightly biting her lip. “And Anubis goes where Sibuna goes.”

            With the air cooling and the sun sinking into the horizon and the leaves turning gray, KT looks around. There are eleven faces staring back; yet, even despite the breeze raising goosebumps on her legs, the fire in the middle burns. The faces are warm and fierce, some eyes filled with the intensity of fire, others the clarity of air, or the sincerity of water, or the determination of earth. But all hearts beat blood, thick and flexible and staining; KT nods.

            This time, she watches face look back at her and she smiles.

* * *

_“Isis House, they are bigger. They’re stronger, they’ve got the advantage. But together, we will fight to the bitter end. And not just for us, okay? For the future generations of Anubis. So they can walk into these games, with their heads held high and say ‘I AM ANUBIS!’ Who’s with me!?”_

* * *

            In Australia, Mick is forcefully reminded that he is oblivious.

            Mick knows he’s oblivious; he knows that signals and omens could pass right in front of his face and he’d never notice. Hindsight might be clear as day, but Mick knows he’s missed conversations and clues indicating that not everything – or everyone – is exactly as it seems.

            The day that Amber calls him, in tears and struggling to form coherent sentences, is the day Mick finally understands.

            “You saved Nina’s life?” he asks, because that’s the only thing he understands because he’s sure that _Sibuna_ isn’t a real word. “And Victor and – Denby? – kicked you out of Anubis because they threatened to hurt everyone else – “ His summary is crass and vague, but Amber agrees and the tears turn into hiccups as Amber explains further. Mick really understands now. “You kept ditching me to help Nina and Fabian find the cup.”

            “Yes.”

            They talk everyday after that, filling in missing pieces and dusting off a friendship rusted by time and misconceptions. And when Nina calls them all back to England, Mick doesn’t hesitate.

            He does hesitate when Nina clears her throat though. “If that’s it – “ Mick bites his lip. “Okay, so let me explain what exactly is going on – “

            Mick half hears her; he hears a tale about tears of gold and an aging man in Egypt. He thinks he recalls something about a stone and Victor leaving, but if he’s honest, he’s still stuck on how easily everyone seems to be accepting everything.

            Eddie is listening intently, his thumb grazing the back of Patricia’s hand; Patricia herself seems to know the basics, but picks up little details here and there by the way she nods. KT looks as clueless as Mara, yet the latter absorbs each piece of information immediately whereas the former takes a moment as if building a summary for later reference. Alfie sits with his arm still around Willow, both listening, but both with eyes slightly cloudier than Mick thinks Nina would like. Joy asks questions that Jerome answers, much to Fabian’s annoyance; Amber is looking at him, though.

            “You’re not paying attention,” she says to him quietly, letting Nina continue.

            “I’m going to forget all of it anyway,” says Mick instead, his hands cradling hers, but his eyes still scanning the clearing. He doesn’t _like_ being oblivious – so he observes and watches and hopefully, finally, he’ll notice something.

            And when he does, it’s when Nina has finished explaining how Victor is returning from Egypt and some of them need to meet with him while the others research possible locations for the missing parts; it’s when Eddie volunteers to meet with Victor and Patricia and Alfie and Willow decide to tag along; it’s when Fabian nods and says he and Mara will start working on the research and if anyone else has any input to let them know; it’s when Jerome and Joy explain how they’re planning and putting together an event for the local University and they could use the venue as a meeting place; it’s when Amber mournfully explains that she can’t be very helpful in New York and KT says they can find something to do long-distance to help out.

            That’s when Mick realizes there’s a rotating wheel with twelve cards; when any number is pulled, lying in a stack together, they create a different tone. Each hand is another chapter; each game is another finished product until the next time the entire deck is together again. And then, it’s a continuation of a never-ending story and the longest game of _War_ he’d ever played, each card played in multiple ways and at multiple times.

            Mick realizes that he could just sit there and suddenly everything would make sense.

* * *

_“There’s one thing that Victor doesn’t have. And that’s what we have. All of us Sibunas. We’re in this together, and we’re going to succeed because we won’t let each other give up. And we won’t let each other fail.”_

* * *

            The day Nina gives Eddie her locket everything feels empty.

            There’s a tiny hole in her heart, waiting for the missing piece; it aches and burns and even as her Gran’s health improves and school picks up, Nina wishes she could be in England, at Anubis, with her locket.

            The day Eddie returns her locket, with sad eyes and quick explanation about death and sacrifice, Nina realizes that everything was empty anyway.

            Her and Eddie talk a lot about the missing year; he tells her about the new Sibuna and graduation. He tells her quickly about Fabian and Mara, and even of Jerome and Joy, and Nina nods, not smiling. He tells her about KT and Willow, how much they bring to Anubis House, and Nina nods again. Eddie tells her stories as his eyes brighten and that’s the day Nina realizes what’s been missing.

            It’s a quick email to Amber, Fabian, Patricia, and Alife; it’s another email drafted and reread and sent out to everyone with a date and a time and a location.

            It’s this moment, right now; Nina’s fingers run across the pendant of her locket.

            “I’m glad – I’m glad we did this,” she says, her hand clenching tighter around her necklace. Her thumb feels the ridges of the eye, her eyes focused on the ground. Watching a ladybug slowly climb up a branch, jumping over leaves and blades of grass, Nina sighs. “When I gave Eddie my locket – I was worried. I was worried if Sibuna would survive. Secretly, I hoped that there would be a need to revive it again – but at the same time,” she says, glancing up, her eyes lingering on each point of the circle, “having all of you involved – it’s such a risk.”

            “But that’s why you asked us,” says KT, her smile tinged in respect and understanding and Nina wishes she knew the girl better. “You gave us a choice.”

            “And Nina,” says Joy, her face serious and her eyebrow raised just a bit and her lips curling slightly, “choice _matters_. We want to be here, we want to help.”

“We don’t let each other fail,” says Patricia quietly, but Nina hears her.

            No one says anything anymore and Nina wonders why: she wonders why she got put into this position, as the leader, as the Chosen One. She didn’t _choose_ to be descendant from a special bloodline – but even as she thinks it, she feels herself smiling.

            Because Willow is drawing circles in the grass and KT is listening intently with narrowed eyes and Eddie is meeting her eyes with understanding and Joy is smiling with respect tinged in her eyes and Mick is looking elsewhere but his ears are perked and Mara is taking mental notes in a mental journal and Jerome is tallying scores and figures with his eyes staring off to the bottom corner and Alfie is grinning widely, unable to sit still and Patricia is gripping her jacket tightly with all her strength and Amber is flipping locks of hair over her finger with a straight neck and wide eyes and Fabian is beaming at her in triumph.

            She may be _the_ Chosen One – but they all chose too.

            And Nina refuses to forget that.

            So she lifts her right hand, palm over her eye.

            “Sibuna?”

            Smiles. Nods. Hands.

“Sibuna.”

* * *

_“We did good, didn’t we?”_

* * *

 


End file.
